Encounters
by chickenwriter
Summary: What if Clarisse knew Joseph before her marriage to Rupert... Before she became queen, and before he became her head of security. What if he tried to change her mind about her marriage? What if she came close to agreement? Chapter 3 Posted. C
1. Chapter 1

Encounters

A/N: I got this idea, and I just couldn't shake the possibility it would make a great one-shot, then I started writing it and realized this would be a very long one shot... So please enjoy it for however long it goes on.

* * *

It was late in the evening in 1953. The Genovian climate made it warm, even at eight at night. Young Clarisse Dessen whisked down the street at an incomparable pace. Her parents had granted her exactly one year of freedom, destined to be the best of her life. At 16, she was a portrait of beauty. With her hair the color of straw, her porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and her sapphire blue eyes, it was truly too bad her husband was already picked out for her.

You see, her parents had raised her to marry a royal and to become queen. However, she was free-spirited, and was never very good at the whole royal thing. Tonight was her first night as herself, no lessons or rules (the only thing she knew). Maybe she would meet a man and could run away with him, to Paris, or perhaps even America! Yes, the promises of tomorrow hung in the air, and Clarisse was more than excited.

The shops were lit up gloriously, Independence day creeping up on them. King Edward was on the throne, and his son, Rupert, was Clarisse's betrothed. She'd met him twice, and he was fifteen years older than she. Nearly double her age. But in two years, at age 18, Clarisse would marry him and produce his heirs. She shuddered at the thought, as she walked into her favorite spot for tea.

"Clarisse!" The man behind the counter greeted her with a warm smile. "Sit there, and I'll have your tea in just a second." Yes, she came here too much.

"Thank you, Andrew!" His nickname was Bo, but Clarisse never used a nickname. She sat in the seat, smoothing her skirt as she did so. Goodness, it needed ironing!

"What brings you out so late?" It was well past her curfew.

"I'm free, for a year!" She spread her arms out to emphasize her point.

"So you busy, Saturday?" Andrew joked.

"Hmm. Funny."

"I was serious."

"I'm engaged." She retorted.

"Yes, but you've never met the man."

"I have!" Clarisse was appalled. She had met him!

"Twice?"

"So?"

"Thank you for the tea." She threw her money on the table and stood. "But I must be going."

"Goodbye." Andrew sighed as she walked out. How he wanted that woman.

Clarisse skipped along happily, wondering what to do next. The world was at her fingertips. She slowed to a walk and glanced into a shop window. While her gaze was off to the side, she ran into someone, almost knocking herself flat on her backside.

"Watch where you're going!" The figure, clad in black, yelled.

"Perhaps I was?"

"_Perhaps_ you weren't?"

"Perhaps it was your fault!"

"Perhaps it was yours!"

"I'm Clarisse." This conversation was intriguing to the pending monarch. She had never been spoken to so harshly, she was a very prestigious debutante, running with the high crowd her entire life. Having tea with the A-listers of Europe and America regularly.

"Should I care?" The man responded harshly.

"You should, because in two years, I will be your queen." She stood up taller, using her best 'queenly' voice.

"Oh, _forgive me_, your majesty! " He said sarcastically, bending down on one knee and kissing her hand.

"No need to be mean about it."

"Well, _your majesty_, I'm Joe."

"Joseph?"

"No . . . Joe." Why did everyone do that?

"Well, I'm going to call you Joseph."

"Whatever. Just watch it from now on." He then disappeared down the busy Genovian street,

"Whatever? Hey . . . get back here! I have a bone to pick with you! No one says whatever to me! Get ba . . . " Clarisse dropped her hands. "Oh . . . " She continued to walk down the street, back toward her home.

"Mother. I'll be back later!" Clarisse called up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. Today she would go see a film, a scary one, very unladylike. As she walked through town, pleased with her choice of agenda, someone rounded a corner and brushed her hand.

"Oh, your majesty, how unpleasant to see you." It was Joseph.

"I could say the same of you."

"Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"I'm going to the theater. To see a film." Her answer was terse and cold.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"May I accompany you?" Joe boldly took her hand in his, and she ripped it away with a smirk.

"Now why would you ever want to do that?"

"I find you extremely fascinating."

"Hmm." She began to walk and he ran after her to catch up. "I sense that I am not your type."

"Who said I had a type?"

"You look as if you have a new brunette on your arm every weekend."

"Oh, that's harsh."

"I am a harsh girl."

"Oh . . . hardly a girl, a formidable woman, if I do say so myself."

"Hmm." Clarisse though for a moment, she seriously doubted calling herself a woman.

"You never said if I could join you."

"If you wish."

"I do." He joined her at her side and laced his fingers with hers. "Wish, I mean."

"I know what you mean." She spat.

"Of course. After all, you are almost my queen."

"Can you drop that?! I have one year of freedom not to think of that."

"Sorry."

"Me too." They walked slowly, wordlessly, to the theater, finally arriving ten minutes before the show.

"Two tickets for 'The Thing' if you please." Clarisse's crisp accent while saying such a vulgar thing (at least for a woman of her standard) made Joe laugh. "What?"

"Nothing, and let me." He pulled out his wallet and payed the man in the ticket booth. Upon seeing her face, he laughed again. "Hey, chivalry ain't dead."

"Thank you. But, I do believe you mean isn't."

"No, I'm pretty sure I meant ain't." Joe retorted, walking swiftly past her and into the theater.

"Oh . . . " She stamped her foot angrily and caught up to him.

Clarisse had been to one movie in her life, a fluffy romance film about two years ago. She had gone with Rupert, so they could get to know each other. His hand had never left it's place on her thigh, and she did not enjoy herself on the count of being far too uncomfortable. Now she sat next a man she hardly knew and was scared out of her mind. Something shocked her and she grabbed for Joe, both of her hands latched onto his jacket and she buried her head in his chest, trying to escape the movie on the screen.

"Hey now. . ." Joe whispered, rubbing her back gently. "You okay?"

"It's scar...Ah!" As quickly as she had looked up, she looked down again. Joseph smirked, _she was going to be queen?_

"Shh. . . Clarisse, it's just a movie."

"But it's scary!" Finally it was over, and Clarisse stood up. "I. . .um. . ." She was at a loss for words.

"I'd like to see you again."

"You would?" Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and she turned her cheek, so that his lips landed there instead of on hers.

"How about tomorrow?" She was blushing a very deep wine color by now.

"Tomorrow. . .Sounds wonderful."

"Alright, well how about we meet at the little café on main, we can have tea."

"I'm not a tea person."

"Well, I can have tea, you can have. . ."

"Coffee?"

"Coffee."

* * *

Well...? Review, let me know if it's worth continuing! 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_I'll close my eyes, then I won't see_

_The love you don't feel, when you're holding me_

_Morning will come and I'll do what's right_

_Just give me 'til then to give up this fight_

_And I will give up this fight_

_I can't make you love me if you don't_

_You can't make your heart feel something it won't_

_Here in the dark in these final hours_

_I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power_

_But you won't, no You won't . . . _"

_**I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt**_

"Clarisse. You look lovely." Technically this was her first date, and she had dressed beautifully. Her mother had tried to stop her from going, saying that Joseph was riffraff and hardly suitable for pending royals, and saying that she was engaged and shouldn't be 'running around' on her fiancé in the first place. But Clarisse had just waved her off, for the first time in her life . . . she was in charge.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She flirted. "Joseph."

"I'm glad you think so." He offered his arm, and she took it. They walked into the café and the man behind the counter looked up, doing a very obvious double take. _She's with a guy? On a date?_ Andrew was furious. He had tried for years to get her to go on a date with him, with no luck. She had always said she was engaged. Now here she was, with some guy Andrew had never even seen before.

"Can I get you anything?" His question was formal, as if he'd never laid eyes on Clarisse in his life.

"Hello Andrew. Yes, I'll have my usual, and Joseph?"

"Coffee, black." Clarisse stuck out her tongue.

"Black coffee? That's repulsive."

"Well, I don't like tea." He teased.

"You live in Europe and you don't like tea?" Clarisse was shocked.

"Nope. And we just moved here. Better health care."

"From where?"

"Puerto Rico."

"Oh . . . I see." She had known he was from somewhere 'like that' as her mother would put it. His accent was evident in his voice.

"You know, Clarisse, I'm _not _one of those guys with a new brunette on my arm every week end."

"Really?" She sassed. She didn't believe him for a moment

"Yes, I much prefer blondes . . . "

"Oh!" She reached across the table and hit him playfully in the arm. "You are terrible."

"I know. But you seem to like it." He sassed back.

"Hmm." He had caught her.

After tea and black coffee, Clarisse and Joseph left the tiny café to walk together in the moonlit streets of Genovia. Joe boldly reached for Clarisse's hand, and she took it without even a word of protest.

"Clarisse. Wait. I have to ask you something." He stopped her and physically turned her to face him.

"What?"

"You see, there's this girl . . . "

"Oh?"

"I really like her, even though she's kind of a rich snob and totally not my type."

"Excuse me?" She broke out of his hold and turned the other way. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned back reluctantly.

"No listen! I've been wanting to . . . well . . . maybe kiss her. But I don't know if she'll mind or not. What do you think?"

"I think that you should go for it." The response was plain, and not what he was expecting at all. So by the lake, at exactly 10:03 p.m. Joe leaned in and captured her lips in a slow kiss. He was experienced, she was not, so he wordlessly coached her through the kiss. Her hands came to encircle his neck, and his came to encircle her waist. As they parted, Clarisse looked shocked. It had been a profound moment in her life, her first kiss. She leaned in to make it happen again, but he stopped her with a finger placed on her lips.

"Whoa there. Slow down." He laughed softly.

"Why?" She was eager to kiss him, and tried once more, failing once again.

"Because, we're not even dating." Normally this would not have been an issue for Joe, the person who really did have a new girl every weekend, but he felt something for Clarisse that he had never felt for anyone in his life, a feeling that he must protect her, and never let her get hurt.

"So?"

"Clarisse, I've only known you for a few days, but do you want to go steady?"

"I...can't, Joseph, I can't."

"I..." Joe stuttered. "I don't understand."

"Joseph, I'm engaged! I'll be the queen in two years. I can't love you."

"Please? Just for this year, please!"

"Don't beg. How pathetic!" She yelled, tears forming in her blue eyes.

"All right. Fine, but can we continue this? Can we be friends?"

"Yes, of course." Her heart was ripping in two, having to do this. She knew how easily she could love him, but also knew how hard it would be if she did.

"All right, well at least let me kiss you again."

"It wouldn't be appropri . . . " She was cut off by his lips crushing against hers. A sensation ran through her body that she had never felt before. She _wanted _him to touch her. To kiss her until the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. She wanted to stay forever in this empty park, in his arms. But the moment was now, and she knew in her mind that it would only be now. Her knees grew weak under the weight of the passion of this kiss. How could she feel this for this man? This boy? This _foreigner_ she hardly even knew? Was this love? Was this the heavenly feeling she would never feel with her husband? Questions raced through her mind until they finally broke apart.

"I think I changed my mind." She whispered as her knees gave way and she fell to the ground by the lake, laughing as she hit the ground.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, me? I'm perfect. Come down here, I like the view." Clarisse extended a hand and Joseph took it, not knowing that he would be pulled down, accidentally landing on top of her.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He said, trying to roll away, but she didn't allow him to leave.

"I'm not." She murmured in his ear, kissing his neck, then his cheek.

"No, Clarisse." He rolled over, only to take her with him.

"Why?" She asked pitifully. "Just think of me as one of those weekly girls." She leaned in to kiss him again, but he refused.

"I can't. I...can't"

"Oh no, got a girlfriend already?" She was teasing him, while running her hands through his hair.

"No. . . . I just . . . like you too much! Ok? I know that sounds stupid, but I do. I like you and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Oh, Joseph. It doesn't sound stupid." Her reply came as she rolled off of him, to lie next to him on the grass. "It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." They lay in silence for a while until Clarisse finally spoke. "I like you a lot too."


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

"Did you have a nice time?" Her mother's voice cut through the silence of young Clarisse trying to sneak back into her house. She had just opened the door, only to be caught.

"I did." Clarisse dropped her eyes, not wanting to make contact with her mother's icy glare.

"Did he kiss you." It was not a question, for she already knew the answer.

"I do not wish to discuss _personal_ matters with you, mother."

"A diplomatic answer. Polite but vague." Her mother stood, and walked across the room, physically lifting Clarisse's chin roughly and staring her daughter in the eye. "I forbid you to see him again." She almost smiled, clearly satisfied with her decision.

"What?!" Clarisse's eyes widened with disbelief. How could this woman who had given birth to her, nursed her when she was sick, and claimed to love her be so cruel?

"You heard me. You have a date tomorrow. With your fiancé. I suggest you be ready." Anna Dessen's voice was unmelodic, and uncaring. She never considered her daughter's feelings, basically assuming she didn't have any. For she had lost hers years ago.

"Mother..." Her voice was pleading, begging her mother to understand just how much she wanted to see Joseph again.

"Go to bed, Clarisse." She turned and walked slowly toward the kitchen

"You are going back on your word." It took courage for Clarisse to stand up to her mother, the woman who had ultimate control over her life.

"Hmm...I find it amusing that you think you can talk to me like that." Her hand flew sharply into the side of her daughter's face. The force was such a blow, it knocked the debutante to the ground, tears forming in her eyes. She knew if she cried it would only make things worse. Nothing could save her when her mother got like this. "Now you will go to bed, and you will never see this Joseph character again."

"Yes, mother." She sniffed, running up the stairs. The door to her room provided a sanctuary, a place to be herself, by herself. She ran through the open door, shutting it behind her, and threw herself violently on the bed, sobbing. Her body shook the bed as it trembled from her sobs. She should have known it wouldn't last. That she wouldn't really be free. Now she had to date the man she loathed so completely. Okay, so she hadn't met him but twice, but she loathed the fact that he was taking away her freedom. It was now a million times more horrible that she had met Joe. Joseph opened up a whole new world, a world of love and lust that was waiting at her ready fingertips. She knew it wouldn't happen. Maybe if she just ruined her life, she could get out of it. If only she didn't have such a guilty conscience.

When Clarisse was born she was thrust into this lifestyle. Her entire life had been about preparing her for this moment. Private schools, tutors and so-called lessons from royalty and older debutantes were normal for Clarisse from the day she turned three. She never had a moment to herself, and was always depressed. There is nothing worse than a teenager that can not go out with her friends. Well, there is if she doesn't _have_ friends.

Clarisse's friend was her diary. She wrote in it every day, religiously. That was, until her mother found it and burned it in the fire. It was not appropriate for a queen-in-training to think 'like that' she once said, after reading that Clarisse had a crush on one of her escorts for the debutante ball. The next day she had met Rupert. Only to figure that there was no attraction. How could she have a crush on a man so many years older than herself? She knew immediately that she could never love him, and felt doomed from the very start. Clarisse had come home and cried on her bed, much as she was doing now. Except today, she was violent. Things were flying to the wall, breaking and shattering into a million pieces. When she heard her mother's angry footsteps on the hall stairs, she crawled into bed, still sobbing, and pretended to be asleep. Her mother was very easy to trick, and though the bed was shaking, she simply turned off the light and shut the door with a scoff.

* * *

"Madam, it is time to wake up." The maid of the house shook the young debutante lightly. "Today's a big day. You meetin' 'im for a date and all. It's all so excitin'!" She babbled on, while Clarisse rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. The last thing she wanted to do was to actually 'date' this man. Sure, Rupert was relativly nice, he was rich, handsome, funny. But the free-spirit in her told her no. The duty she felt inside for Genovia told her otherwise.

"Edna?" Clarisse half wined, sitting up.

"Yes, Madam?"

"I don't want to marry a prince, I want to be with Joseph."

"'hoo is Joseph?" Suddenly intrigued, Edna looked up from her dusting.

"The most wonderful man in the world."

"Oh 'e's 'ardly that! Not even a man I s'pose"

"No, but he's good enough for me. And I think. . . I think he really, truly, likes me."

"Ah. Well, that's all good for a while, but you need a companion, someone to talk to."

"Joseph could be all that."

"Get ready, Madam, or your mother'll 'ave my 'ed!" With these helpful words of wisdom, Clarisse's only friend exited the room, her mother replacing the empty space she had left.

"Darling! Paul is here! He is ready to do your hair for your date!"

"Hmm."

"Be polite." Her mother's voice was cheery, almost frighteningly so. It always was when Paul was around. Anna Dessen had a crush on him. This made number twelve of possible husband's for this time around. Mrs. Dessen had married first for love, second for children (Hence Clarisse), third for money and_ forth _for spite. Now a divorcee of four times, she was going in for the kill on number five. Clarisse had thought number five would be for fame or perhaps just for the hell of it.

She sat quietly in her chair, waiting for Paul to come up the stairs. He would do whatever her mother told him, and Clarisse would have no say in what her appearance was. The frilly dress, the pristine make-up, the elaborate hair and the expensive shoes had all been preselected, much to her dismay. As the hairbrush and Paul's hands flew around her head, thoughts were carried from ear to ear that she hoped to god her mother could not read.

'_I must see him one more time, I can't leave it like this. He'll worry about me. I need to see him. But what if that only makes it worse? But then he'll think I'm ignoring him and that's not good. Ow, that hurt. Joseph has to know! What if. . .No! Impossible, I couldn't. Sneak out? Me? Yes, it's so improbable it just may work!' _As she made diabolical plans in her head, she felt Paul tugging harshly at her mass of long blonde hair. The pain pulled her out of her thoughts. Her mother looked on from the corner, directing a cold glare at Clarisse, and a warm fuzzy smile at Paul. It was almost as if she knew what Clarisse was thinking. There was no way she could. Clarisse had never disobeyed her before, which is why she was so frightened to do so now.

"Paul. You are a miracle worker." Her mother

"I only do what they tells me to!" He gushed, grabbing Anna's hand and kissing it softly, lingering longer than he needed to. It made Clarisse sick to see her mother like this. The LAST thing she needed was another step-father.


End file.
